


twrp one shots (2019)

by somethingsintheair



Series: TWRP Fic Compilations [3]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, M/M, compilation fic, one shots, relevant information is in chapter summaries, there's some ships in there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2019-10-07 14:38:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: A place for short fic requests from tumblr or just random bullshit I write that doesn't fit anywhere else. Fics go up on tumblr whenever I write them, and I post them here on Saturdays!





	1. cry

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt here was "You can cry if you need to, it’s alright. No one would think badly of you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung & meouch

Something had upset Sung. No one was quite sure what, but _boy,_ was he getting worked up. He was halfway dressed in his stage gear, his suit pulled up to his waist while only an undershirt covered his torso. He had been sitting like that, just shaking in the corner of the green room, for the entirety of their opener’s set so far. They had maybe about two songs left before they had to be on, and no one knew what the fuck to do.

Meouch turned out to be the one to approach him, since Phobos wasn’t the best with communication, and Havve was actually the worst with comfort. Only a little reluctantly, he approached Sung’s Stress Corner and crouched down in front of him.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice soft. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Sung didn’t respond, just held his knees tighter to his chest, buried his head further behind his legs. He looked so… _tense,_ and he hadn’t made a sound since he’d sat down over there.

Whatever was going on, it did not look healthy.

“You can… cry if you need to,” Meouch said. “It’s alright.”

Sung managed a single syllable then, his voice muffled. “No.”

“Wh… what do you mean, _no?”_ Meouch asked. “It’s just us. We can leave if you really want us to.”

Sung huffed. “If I start crying, I’m not gonna be able to stop crying,” he explained, his voice unsteady, “And then we’ll have to go onstage, and everyone will hear me, and it’ll be really obvious that something’s wrong, a-and–”

“No one would think badly of you,” Meouch interjected. “I mean, sure, people might be concerned, but you know how our shows are. People are nice. If anyone really wants to know, we can just tell them… I dunno, you faceplanted back here, and you’re still recovering.”

Sung cracked a smile at that, and even let out a breathy little laugh– but that was just enough to set him off. He burst into tears, just wailing, no holding back.

Meouch was… reasonably confused, but once the initial shock wore off, he reached out to give Sung some much-needed gentle back rubs. “It’s okay, pal,” he said. “Just… just let it out.”

For once, he was thankful the band before them was so loud.


	2. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: phobos & computer wife

Sung was the one who built Cynthia, but Phobos was so much better at handling her. Sung was so hesitant, so shaky. He was always so scared he’d do something wrong, that he’d hurt her in some way. Phobos was much more confident in his abilities.

So, when she realized her visor display was acting up, Cynthia went to right to Phobos for help. Phobos asked Sung for permission to use his workshop before he led Cynthia down there and started to search through the cabinets for the doctor’s toolbox.

“I really don’t know what could’ve started it,” Cynthia explained, “I just looked in the mirror this morning and it was going crazy.”

Phobos glanced over his shoulder to look at her display.

**[NFKJDSnkjff4!ksl;]**

No, that wasn’t… quite right. His shoulders shook in a quiet chuckle as he pulled the red metal toolbox out from one of the cabinets. He set it down on the workbench, and Cynthia hopped up to take a seat right beside it.

“All my software seems to be running alright, it must be a hardware issue.”

Phobos nodded as he put a hand to the side of her head, then held up a screwdriver. After a nod from Cynthia, a form of unspoken consent, he started to unscrew the panel on her forehead.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, by the way,” Cynthia said. “I think Sung still gets freaked out when he sees me without my face on.”

Another quiet chuckle as Phobos lifted the panel and set it down on the table. He gently tilted her head forward, and made quick work of diagnosing the problem. The obvious cause was a loose wire, and all he had to do was replace it. That resulted in a bit of discomfort on Cynthia’s end, but it was over soon enough. Once he set her forehead panel back into place, she tested it out with a short message to Phobos.

**[ <3]**


	3. "You did all of this... for me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung & meouch

Sung didn’t often cry, except he totally did. Primarily happy crying, but still. There was plenty of crying.

The most recent tears fell when he came home one night to find Meouch with his keytar– now with a brand new strap, covered in a pattern similar to the Ladyworld stripes.

“Wh… what’s this?” Sung asked.

“I replaced the strap,” Meouch said with a shrug. “I was gettin’ tired ‘a you using up all the duct tape to keep the old one on.”

Sung turned the keytar over in his hands, carefully inspecting the new attachment keeping the strap in place. “You did all of this… for me?” he asked.

Meouch could hear Sung’s voice wavering, a sure sign it was that time of the week again. “I just replaced the peg, Doc,” he said. “It wasn’t hard. The most time-consuming part of it was getting all the fuckin’ tape residue off.”

Sung sniffled as he lifted his head to look up at Meouch, his cheeks already soaked. How could someone produce so many tears that fast? “But you did it anyway,” Sung said, “Because you’re such a good friend.” He smiled. “Thank you so much.”

Meouch couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “Sure, bud,” he said. “Let’s hope this one’s a little sturdier, yeah?”


	4. “I’m just going to walk away and pretend I didn’t just see that.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: phobos & havve

Phobos had spent hours, _hours_ fixing Havve’s paint job. Normally, it shouldn’t take that long. But Havve was impatient, he kept getting up to do things before it was dry, and the paint kept smudging. But finally, by some miracle, he let it dry before he exited the kitchen.

It was a solid ten minutes later when Havve came back, a tiny chip of paint taken out of his jaw. For a moment, Phobos just stood frozen in place, staring at the sight before him.

_“I’m just going to walk away and pretend I didn’t just see that.”_


	5. command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: havve & sung

As stern as Havve usually was, he didn’t often demand things of others. He didn’t like people bossing him around, so he didn’t care to do the same for anyone else. However, when it came to the well-being of the only other person he cared about, arguably, things were a little different.

Sung had been working for nineteen hours straight, and Havve had been there through it all. He didn’t have a choice, really, since his inner workings happened to be Sung’s current project. He could tell Sung was getting tired, and furthermore, just sitting there for that long was getting incredibly fucking boring, so he decided to take action.

He made sure Sung was at a good stopping point (meaning, somewhere that wouldn’t leave Havve completely nonfunctional) before he grabbed Sung’s hands and set them down on his worktable.

“Wh… what are you doing?” Sung asked, looking up from where his focus had been set all that time. His irises were a deep purple, a clear sign of his concentration. “I was almost done.”

“IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO SLEEP,” Havve replied.

Sung furrowed his brow. “What?” he looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s, like… 8 PM.”

“YES, AND YOU STARTED AT 3 PM YESTERDAY. IT IS TIME TO REST.”

“You know I can go weeks without sleep, Havve,” Sung said with a chuckle. He tried to wiggle his wrists out of Havve’s hold, but he had them pinned down to the table. “I’ve done it before.”

“THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU SHOULD. YOU HAVE NOT SLEPT IN NEARLY 100 HOURS.”

Sung raised his eyebrows. “Okay, but that’s still less than a week, I can just–”

Havve let go of Sung’s wrists, only to place his hands down in his lap. ”I CAN CLOSE MYSELF UP,” he said, “SLEEP.”

Sung let out a soft sigh, and rubbed his wrist as he stood up. It didn’t really hurt, it never did, but that was still his natural reaction. “Okay.”


	6. soak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> character: sung
> 
> sung has some... questionable post-show habits.

Sometimes, getting undressed right after a show was just too much effort for Sung. Sweat made his suit cling to his body in a distinctly uncomfortable way, and the feeling of peeling it off himself to get into the shower was honestly just revolting, at times.

Therefore, he often skipped that particular step and went straight to bathing.

He took his armor off first, of course, he knew he had to be more careful about washing that. His helmet and shoes, too. But the suit stayed on as he ran the tub, and even as he lowered himself into the cold water. He let out a soft sigh of relief at the temperature, and at the feeling of relief that came with impending cleanliness. He was going to rinse off with the shower afterwards, of course, but for the moment, he was content to let himself soak.


	7. "why are you awake right now?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: meouch & sung

“Why are you awake right now?”

Sung’s arms were crossed as he stood in his bedroom doorway, and in that moment, he looked like a disappointed father.

Meouch didn’t like that look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had a curfew,” Meouch retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t say anything about a curfew,” Sung said, “I’m simply asking a question. I haven’t seen you all day, and as your friend, I’m a little worried.”

“I’m a grown-ass man, Doc.”

“So am I,” Sung replied, “But I still like having someone checking in with me, making sure I’m safe. It’s what friends do.”

“Okay, sure, but you don’t gotta know what I’m up to all the time.”

“I’m not asking what you’re up to.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“I just want to make sure you’re safe and healthy, you know that.” Sung offered him a smile. “Are you okay?”

Meouch’s expression softened, just slightly, just enough for Sung to notice. “Yeah. M’fine.”


	8. soft meouch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: meouch & sung
> 
> content warning for a nondescript panic attack.

Meouch wasn’t usually one for unprompted cuddling. Or, really, any sort of voluntary cuddling. With partners, sure, he wasn’t a complete dick and he knew that aftercare was an important thing. But with his friends, he preferred to keep things limited to occasional hugs.

Naturally, when one of his best friends happened to require a certain level physical affection to live, things got a little complicated.

He wasn’t sure what it was that set Sung off this time. He hadn’t seen the guy all day, and he had no idea what he’d been up to. But for whatever reason, when Sung came upstairs from his lab, he was having some sort of panic attack. He didn’t say anything, didn’t explain himself, but Meouch had seen it before. He could tell.

He rushed to Sung’s side, leaning down a little to make eye contact with him, to let him know he was there. Sung’s eyes were a sickly yellow-green, and he was shaking like a leaf, but he managed a little nod when their gazes met. Meouch took that as permission to usher Sung into his room, a familiar and comfortable space, and sit him down on his bed.

Meouch knew exactly where Sung kept his softest blanket, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, but was thankful for at the moment. He pulled it out of the closet and unfolded it, watching Sung carefully all the while. He had his arms wrapped tightly around himself, which assured Meouch he probably had the right solution in mind. He climbed onto the bed behind Sung and started wrapping the blanket around him, tight enough to be nice and snug, but loose enough that he could get out of it easily enough. Once he was all cocooned up, Meouch pulled him back against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, the shaking subsided.


	9. "you're adorable"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung/danny

“You’re adorable.”

Sung looked up from his keyboards to see Danny standing nearby, leaning against one of the amps. He’d gotten into costume already, far earlier than usual, and Sung felt wholly underdressed in comparison. He always dressed comfy before shows; a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and his visor.

“Huh?”

“Just… the way you look when you’re all concentrated,” Danny elaborated. “S’cute. Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to comment on that.”

Sung had a shy little smile on his face as he returned his focus to his keyboards, making sure all his presets were in order. “Well, you’d better hush up if you’d like to see it again.”


	10. a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung/phobos

All things considered, they didn’t get too many opportunities to look at each other’s faces.

For one, Sung preferred to keep his eyes covered around just about everyone. It was a cultural thing, he’d explained, compared it to being naked in public. Phobos didn’t really understand, but he respected it because it was important to Sung.

That said, it was very special when he _did_ get to see them. Those fleeting, intimate moments they had before they both settled down for bed– that’s when he usually got a glimpse of them.

Phobos, on the other hand, needed his helmet to breathe properly, as too much oxygen in his lungs would cause a lot more damage than it was worth. The only time Sung really saw his whole face was during checkups, when he had to.

It was during one of those checkups that Sung was taking his sweet time, going through everything much slower than he normally did. He usually liked to be efficient, get people in and out of his lab so that he could continue working on his own projects. But this time, it occurred to Phobos that Sung had just sort of been staring at him for a good few minutes, and hadn’t actually gotten any checking up done.

Phobos raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and the gesture was enough to get Sung’s attention.

“Sorry, just… thinking,” Sung replied, tilting his head slightly. Phobos didn’t know how to react when he lifted his shades and rested them atop his head, revealing soft pink irises. He wasn’t looking Phobos right in the eye, like he’d expected; he was looking at his lips. “Do you mind if I get a closer look?” he asked.

Phobos glanced down as well, reciprocating the gesture, and replied with a slight nod. And then Sung was closing the distance between them, and his eyes were fluttering closed, and everything felt right.

He could tolerate a few more minutes’ worth of oxygen, he decided.


	11. “let’s pretend I didn’t see you do that”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung/meouch

Sung wasn’t one for formal wear. Like… ever. There wasn’t any sort of necessity for it in space, and even in his time on Earth, he’d never been invited to any sort of formal event. But that night, he wanted to try something nice, something more… traditional.

The whole dating thing was still weird, for the both of them. Sung, for one, had never done anything like it before, and Meouch had been out of the game for as far back as he was willing to disclose about his past. They’d spent a lot of time looking up ideas for their first ‘real’ date, and after some debate, eventually just decided on a nice dinner. Sung insisted they both dress up, because that was apparently the traditional thing to do, and if anything, he wanted to do it correctly.

The bowtie, he liked. The fact that his shirt had little dogs on it, he loved that. Meouch had picked it up for him, despite his reservations about that animal in particular. But it was a long-sleeved shirt, and. Well, to put it bluntly, Sung’s arms were too big for him to easily roll them up. That didn’t stop him from trying, however, and with some effort, he did manage to at least roll them up to his elbows. It was a bit of a tight fit, but all was well, he could still show off a bit of his arms like he wanted.

That is, until he flexed in the mirror and heard the distinct sound of fabric tearing. His eyes went wide, and when he saw Meouch’s reflection a little ways behind him, he cleared his throat and stood up straight.

“Ah… hello, dear,” he said, eyeing Meouch through the mirror.

For a moment, Meouch was quiet, an amused expression on his face. Then, he turned around, and called over his shoulder, “For your sake, let’s pretend I didn’t see you do that.”


	12. histories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung & havve

Havve knew a lot about Sung, probably more than anyone else did. More than his own mothers did-- would, if they were still alive.

Now, he didn’t even ask. Frankly, he didn’t care to. But it all came out over their time together, before they formed the rest of the band. Sung spilled everything, his whole life story, the good and the bad. He seemed particularly ashamed of the bad, almost fearful, as if Havve would judge him for it.

Naturally, he didn’t.

Sung would sometimes pester Havve about his own past, as if he knew anything of it. Whatever had killed him before Sung saved him left him with no memory of his life before, only his basic intelligence. That didn’t stop them from looking, digging through old memory banks and archived files in his database. The vast majority of them were corrupted, or outright blank.

Havve, of course, didn’t miss the things he didn’t remember. But it still made Sung a little sad.


	13. hic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> characters: sung & gooby

Sung was… tired. He always had a tendency to feel down after a tour. It was only natural, that going from the high of a show nearly every night to the silence of his home would make him crash.

Still. It fucking sucked.

He’d been more than happy to see Gooby again, to be able to pet him and hold him and just be around him. But even the excitement of such an energetic boy had to wear off eventually, and once things calmed down, Sung found his mood starting to plummet.

Seriously, though, how could he be even remotely upset? There was a literal angel sleeping in front of him. Gooby was quieter than usual, his little snores absent that time around, but he was still adorable as ever. Sung hugged him tighter as he felt it coming on; the inevitable breakdown. He just needed a good cry, really, a good night’s sleep, and he’d be fine. It always went like that.

He took a deep breath, ready to let it all out, when the dog in his arm twitched. Not a subtle twitch, either, more like a jolt. Sung furrowed his brow, lifting his head to get a better look at him. “Hey, buddy, you okay?” he asked, rubbing circles in Gooby’s side.

Another twitch soon followed– this time, accompanied by a gentle squeak.

Sung’s whole demeanor changed then, his frown curling into a grin. “You got the hiccups, little guy?” he asked, giving Gooby’s stomach a gentle pat. Gooby didn’t seem to mind, still sound asleep, and just made another little squeaking sound.

Sung was totally going to cry anyway, but at least now, it was for a different reason.


	14. tasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fictober prompt #9: "There is a certain taste to it."  
> characters: sung & havve

When Havve stepped off the ship, he was immediately greeted by the sound of… breathing? Deep breathing. _Loud_ breathing. He turned to look for the source of the sound– which was, of course, none other than Sung. He was just standing there, really exaggerating his breaths, with no regard to anyone around him.

“DOCTOR.”

Sung paused his dramatic gestures to look at Havve. “Yes?”

“ARE YOU HYPERVENTILATING.”

Sung chuckled, waving his hand. “No, no,” he said, “I’m fine, Havve. I’m just sort of…” He looked ahead and took another slow, deep breath. “I’m taking it in, you know? Home sweet home. The air here isn’t quite the same as it is in America.”

Havve’s eyes flickered. “THE AIR.”

“Yes, the air,” Sung replied. “There’s a certain… taste to it. A _homey_ taste. You know?”

No, Havve still didn’t know what the fuck Sung was on about. But at least now that he knew Sung wasn’t dying, he could just ignore him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fictober prompts are [over here](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/post/187637998976/fictober-2019) for anyone who's interested! everything i write for it is most likely going to be added to this fic.


	15. melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fictober prompt #5: "I might just kiss you."  
> characters: sung & meouch

Sung had been up all night, fucking around with a synthesizer and a pair of headphones. Right before he’d intended to go to bed, a melody had come to mind– one he didn’t want to forget. He had to see it through and make it into something good.

The task at hand was becoming increasingly frustrating.

He let out a huff and slammed his fingers down onto the keys, then flinched at the way the sound blasted through his headphones. He accidentally kicked the stand in the process, nearly sending his beloved synth toppling to the ground until he caught it just in time.

A knock on his door alerted him that he may have made a little more noise than he’d thought. Carefully, he placed the synth back on its stand, then stood up to answer the door. It was none other than Meouch, looking tired, still wearing his pajamas.

“You alright in here, bud?” he asked. “Got up to get some water and heard somethin’ crashin’ around.”

Sung sighed and looked back towards his instrument. “Yes, I’m fine,” he answered. “I’ve just been trying to figure out this melody. It doesn’t sound… right.”

“How so?”

“Like… it needs something. You know?” Sung turned back to Meouch, whose arms were crossed.

“Mm… one sec.”

Sung blinked as Meouch wandered back to his room, and came back moments later with his acoustic bass. He ushered Sung to sit back at the keys as he slung the strap over his shoulder. “Lemme hear it.”

Sung unplugged his headphones, and was sure to turn the volume down considerably before he played through the melody– what he had so far, anyways.

Meouch squinted and looked down at his fretboard. “Again.”

Sung rolled his eyes. He was far too tired for whatever Meouch was getting at, but he did as he was asked anyways. A few notes into the melody, a soft bassline accompanied him. And, somehow, it worked.

They played through a few times, with Meouch trying something different each time. A smile spread across Sung’s face as he improvised an ending, and Meouch was able to follow along seamlessly.

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Sung said as he stood from his chair. “That’s so much better!”

“Yeah, ya dingus,” Meouch said, “You can’t just play a melody on a synthesizer and expect it to sound like a finished piece.”

“I know that, but I didn’t realize it could be so… so…” Sung shook his head. “I might just kiss you right now.”

Meouch made a face. “Please don’t. Go to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts/requests/etc on [tumblr](https://somethiingsintheair.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
